Poetry poems

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Dream On

© James Tate

Some people go their whole lives

without ever writing a single poem.

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The High-Toned Old Christian Woman

© Wallace Stevens

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.


Take the moral law and make a nave of it

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A High-Toned Old Christian Woman

© Wallace Stevens

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.

Take the moral law and make a nave of it

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Victory

© Adrienne Rich

Suddenly instead of art we're eyeing
organisms traced and stained on cathedral transparencies
cruel blues embroidered purples succinct yellows
a beautiful tumor

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In A Classroom

© Adrienne Rich

Talking of poetry, hauling the books

arm-full to the table where the heads

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Cartographies of Silence

© Adrienne Rich

1.

A conversation begins

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Rubaiyat

© Tanwir Phool

Jo lamHa guzartaa hai who keya detaa hai?
Dauraaniya-e-zeest bataa detaa hai
Aie Phool ! ghaTaa umr se ik aur baras
Jaataa huwaa har saal sadaa detaa hai

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Rishta-e-jism-o-jaaN

© Tanwir Phool

Please see these links for Tanwir Phool's poetry :


http://forum.urdujahaan.com/viewtopic.php?f=18&t=4969

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Naat

© Tanwir Phool

Muhammad(SAWAWS) Rah-e-Haq dikhaanay ko aa'ey


GunaahoN sey ham ko bachaanay ko aa'ey

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Hamd

© Tanwir Phool

Tiri Qudrat ko yaa Rab ! zarray zarray sey a'yaaN dekhaa


Qamar maiN ,shams maiN ,anjum maiN Tujh ko zaufishaaN dekhaa

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Haiku

© Tanwir Phool

Khail maiN haiN mashGhool
BachchoN ke dil ki dhaRkan
ChiRyaa , titli , phool

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All because i loved you

© Olu Oguibe

once i wrote with the irreverence of youth


and the fire of a heart burning to ash

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The Bear

© Galway Kinnell

2
I take a wolf's rib and whittle
it sharp at both ends
and coil it up
and freeze it in blubber and place it out
on the fairway of the bears.

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Death and Fame

© Allen Ginsberg

When I die

I don't care what happens to my body

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Solitude

© Mihai Eminescu

With the curtains drawn together,
At my table of rough wood,
And the firelight flickering softly,
Do I fall to thoughtful mood.

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Youth in Age

© Ethelwyn Wetherald

When younger women stand a breathing space Before their mirrors, with an inward smile At burnished hair or slender throat or wileOf dimpled chin, or nest a rose in laceAnd note how perfectly it mates the face, I, pallid, worn and hollow-templed, pile My heart with thoughts of secret triumphs, whileYoung hopes are mine, young bliss and youth's light pace

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Locksley Hall Sixty Years After

© Alfred Tennyson

Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,

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Gwen

© Souster Raymond

At the poetry readingin Croft House, she wrote downher phone-number on a piece of paper,said, give me a call some time.